


Dean After Hell

by coldspot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, M/M, Slash, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldspot/pseuds/coldspot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate canon in which Dean gets himself out of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean After Hell

Sam wasn't asleep when he heard the noise in the kitchen. He was staying in a hotel, and the kitchen was separated from the bed by a thin wall, so he could tell with confidence that there was nothing in his kitchen just a moment before, and now there was something opening the fridge door. That sounded like a demon trick. Incidentally, it also sounded like a Dean trick - sneaking in through the window, surprising him in the shadows, tackling him to the ground and demanding a beer - but Dean was gone for months now, trapped somewhere in Hell on his behalf. For all the dreams Sam had of finding Dean in this hotel room, there were equal nights of waking up in a cold sweat terrified that he'd never see him again.

But this wasn't a dream. This was real. There was something in his damn room. Sam slowly reached under his pillow for the demon knife. He crept out of bed soundlessly and pressed his back against the wall. He could hear the intruder on the other side, rummaging through the fridge. 

Sam swiftly turned the corner and grabbed the intruder's arm with one hand. He aimed the knife under his neck. The intruder easily neutralized the attack - he twisted out of Sam's arm and ducked away from the knife. The light from the fridge cast their dim shadows all over the kitchen as they moved around each other. Sam aimed the handle of the knife at the intruder's temple, but before he knew it, the man had him pressed firmly against the kitchen wall.

"I've been dead for months and I can still pin you."

Dean. Dean's voice. The fridge bulb lit them softly from the side. Dean's arm pressed against Sam's chest, green eyes shining in the shadows. The warm skin of Dean's hand on Sam's wrist, exactly the way Sam remembered. 

Sam was lost in it for a moment - but only a moment. Suddenly, he wrapped one long leg around Dean's knees and knocked him off his feet. Dean fell back onto the ground. Sam landed squarely on top of him, pinning his wrists over his head. He held onto the demon knife with his fingers.

Dean winced from the fall but managed a grin. "Proud of ya, Sammy," he said smugly.

Sam expertly tucked both of Dean's wrists under one wide hand. He gripped the knife tightly with the other, said, "Don't call me Sammy", and punched Dean in the face.

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" Dean yelled. He quickly freed one wrist from Sam's compromised grip to stop the next punch.

"Who sent you?" Sam demanded.

"Sam, it's me," Dean said. "It's me, Sammy, I swear."

Sam stared down at him but didn't move. Dean's mannerisms were right. The inflections in his voice were right. The way their bodies fell so naturally around each other - a lifetime of fighting, practicing, protecting each other - was so convincing. 

"Let me test you," Sam said, holding up the knife.

Dean just watched him from the floor with a small smile on his lips. He looked nostalgic. Demons don't get nostalgic, Sam thought. 

Before Sam knew it, a powerful force pulled him off Dean and pushed him into a sitting position against the wall. The demon knife fell from his fingers and sailed far across the floor. He was pinned. As Dean sat up, Sam saw the liquid blackness in his eyes. 

Dean knelt down in front of Sam. He gently took Sam's face in his hands and pressed away the tears that welled up in his eyes - a gesture identical to one nearly twenty years before when Sam fell from his bike and skinned his hands and knees. In front of everyone...

Dean leaned in and kissed Sam's forehead. "It's going to be okay, Sammy."


End file.
